


Out in the woods

by fish_wifey



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Cabins, Getting Together, M/M, Making Love, Making Out, Mission Fic, Romantic setting, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-07 23:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5473829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_wifey/pseuds/fish_wifey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a mission to find an outpost and see if its still usable for the Survey corps, Jean and Armin (aged 18-19) find themselves a cabin for the night. </p><p>As Jean has been interested in Armin for some time, he has a whole other, more romantic mission in his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out in the woods

**Author's Note:**

> I fucking love Armin. I love bad ass Armin, suave Armin, Armin being assertive. And Jean trying to woo him and such~ 
> 
> My main 'older' Armin inspirations come from these two lovelies: [Surfacage](http://surfacage.tumblr.com/post/80489380369/me-too-jean-me-too-being-eren-is-suffering) and [Cheyenne](http://yuki119doodles.tumblr.com/post/67107813227/yuki119-i-keep-getting-asked-about-older-armin). Their Armins are soooo niceeeee and always were a source of inspiration for me to write older Armin. I remember the first time I saw the longer hair, bits of bangs put on the back of the head... I was in love ;; 
> 
> I have also taken the liberty to add (and mention) some scars added to their bodies.
> 
> Also there's a strong connection to Eren. In this fic its meant to be friendship/rival-y only, before anyone flips their shit |D (I myself am up for erejearmin any day though, just not in this fic~)

“There’s nothing but a goddamn wasteland as far as the eye can see…” Jean watches the mountains on the far left, and urges his horse to go faster. Even if drumroll of the titan’s rumbling steps are absent, Jean’s heart still beats as fast as if they are behind them. He rather knows where the enemy is without seeing or hearing from it. He doesn’t like wide open spaces, as too many missions in these kind of places have gone horribly wrong. One on occasion, nearly cost his right ear. He glances to his right, where Armin checks the map.

Although he has still both his ears in tact, Armin doesn’t spare him a second of his time. Instead, he turns the map upside down, giving it a look of utter bewilderment. Both his hands hold the map with expert ease, while not even a finger is connected to the horse’s reigns. It’s something Jean had taught him during their first solo mission. In the five years Jean has known him, his skills concerning maps remained unrivalled. Jean had wanted him on this particular mission: to find a forgotten hide out which should be somewhere around here. 

Armin doesn’t say the words. He looks from the map to the surroundings in a constant circle. Jean just makes sure that no titan sneaks up on them. There are no woods here to hide in, and he remembers seeing trees around this particular hide out they’re looking for. The wasteland is covered in red dust, not a spot of green to be seen with the naked eye. There’s rocks here and there, and Jean makes sure to let his horse run around it, as well as pressuring Armin’s to run to the side if necessary. 

Jean doesn’t say the words expected from him either. Come what may, and as pessimistic as one can be, Armin never led him astray.

“Aha!” Armin exclaims, and he folds the map in half. Jean grins, liking the triumphant face lightening up next to him. They ride east for the next couple of minutes. The mountains on the right are smaller and further off, yet Armin heads towards them. Following, Jean cannot help looking over his shoulder. His right ear, scarred from battle, has attained a finer hearing quality than his left. The rumble is no where near them. Yet.

“How much longer, Armin?” As hope lts across Armin’s face, and he seems to know the proper direction, Jean allows himself to ask the impatient questions. The tensions in his shoulders creates ghost pains in the scars that run there. Jean observes the blond hair, the front bangs tied to the back. As the sun starts to set, the golden light makes Armin look royal. Like a prince. The longer hair adds to that effect. 

“We’ll be there before nightfall.” Armin says without looking back. Brilliant blue eyes shimmer like the sea Jean has seen in Armin’s picture books. Jean might never see the thing called an ocean, but he wonders if it really matters as long as he has Armin by his side. 

Reining his horse and himself in, Jean shakes his head, trying to rid his foolish thoughts. Nightfall isn’t far away this time of the year. It also brings colder nights, which Jean wishes dearly to avoid at all costs. Even if the abandoned outpost has nothing but a roof, Jean looks forward to the sheltering comfort. Of course, a bed with fresh linens, a warm fire, a bath, rations; all that is more than welcome too if you’d ask him. 

At long last, the peak of dark green trees rise above the dusty no man’s land. Jean smirks, letting hope rise. He remains at constant vigilance, and holds his tongue yet. No need to praise Armin for something Jean knew he’d be able to find. Their horses neigh, a good sign for these attentive and responsive creatures. Jean has categorized the many neighs his horse, Celeste, makes for different occasions. And this neigh is definitely a good one. The thicket becomes bigger as they close in, and in due time, they relax the speed of the horses, letting them rest at ease in the last mile.

“There it is.” Armin nods his chin towards the place that seems hidden in the covering arching darkness going over and around it. Jean sighs in relief, not letting the tension go loose in his arms yet. The few trees drawn on the map didn’t lie. There’s not enough room to have a proper forest. Jean scoffs when they enter it, and Armins gives a faint, reassuring, and soothing laugh. Still, better some protection than nothing. 

They come to a clearing, where the outpost and a neighboring stall stand dark and tall. The wood isn’t as rundown as Jean’s mind imagined it. It doesn’t look that bad from the outside. First off, they take care of the horses. Luck favours the equestrians; inside the stall are plenty of hay bales stacked not too high to the ceiling. Putting some labour and effort in, Jean and Armin prepare two stalls, lay down the hay and give some food to their horses. They even find blankets for the colder nights. 

Moving out, Jean takes one of his blades out before they reach the wooden house. Armin fumbles with the keyhole, then rams his shoulder against it. Slight in frame and never having grown taller than Jean, Armin had never been one you should underestimate. He opens the door, then lets Jean go inside first. 

The cabin is more spacious on the inside than what its looks may suggest from outside. The floors are all wood, adorned with rugs scattered throughout. On the right corner next to the door is an open kitchen, and a large table, with only 4 chairs, one of which misses a leg. Jeans steps in further. In the middle is a sunken part with a sofa, a small table, and the most delightful fireplace Jean has ever set sight on. Right ahead is a large bed, having huge pillows propped up, and thick blankets. Jean notices the bedside tables, and the reading lights right above the bed. Armin’s gleeful sound is uttered at the same time when Jean looks to his left. There’s a small library, bookshelves running from the floor to the ceiling, shelves filled with books and maps. There is more seating and lights. It also holds maneuver gear supplies, much to Jean’s delight.

Once his threat-check is done, he returns the blade to its holder. Armin closes the door behind them, and after the day long ride which did a number on both his ass and his nerves, Jean relaxes. He and Armin put their gear down, near the center, so it is easy to reach whenever they need it. Jean hopes he doesn’t, as he has better plans for the night than fighting a titan.

As they look around, they notice that he outpost is in fact a cabin, and so far it is at least properly furnished. Together with Armin, who heads straight to the books, he goes through the entire room. They check for rations, firewood, and such other things they need for the night. As the search is fast and efficient, they round the cabin from both sides. At last, they walk to the only other door, leading to the bathroom. There’s a door from the back of the bathroom to the what is supposed to be a backyard, where they find a stone well. 

“Pray for it to have water, Jean.” Armin says as he opens the door and goes out, finding a bucket attached to the rope. Jean is not religious, but hopes that Armin finds usable water. Shelter and hydration are the key objects to attain if you want to survive in the wild, after all. It takes Armin some time to drop the bucket without breaking it and bringing it back up to him. Armin faces him, a wide smile on his face. “Now we only have to boil it!” 

Jean nods, and they go back inside together. They ready the cabin for the night; they put up candles for warmth, beds re-made with fresh linen, and they take turns on boiling the water, either to be put into containers for later use, or collect in a wooden bath tub. By the time most preparation is done, Jean’s stomach growls. He grumbles, even louder.

“Thank fucking anything that we have food here. I’m starving.” Jean knows he’s not likeable when hungry. Yet Armin gives him a warm smile, and pushes him towards a large table near the kitchen. Another reason Jean chose him as his partner is that Armin is also an excellent cook. He can create satisfying meals, even with limited means. As this outpost might not have been visited in ages, and their own supplies had to be packed as light as possible, ‘limited means’ might reach a new, irritating high. 

As luck has it, Armin is more than able to use what they have, both with them and here in the cabin, to create a quick meal on the stove. In the meantime, Jean readies the bath until it’s completely full. Getting all the water is tiresome work, but once it’s done, he heats the tub. By the time they’re done eating, he and Armin can enjoy a much needed hot bath. 

“How’s the food coming along?” Jean walks into the kitchen, standing close to Armin. If the proximity, which Jean makes shorter and shorter every month, bothers Armin, he doesn’t show it. For the longest time, he acts natural whenever Jean stands close by, touches him for longer than necessary, or whispers something in his ear during meetings. Armin doesn’t look away from the soup he’s stirring, a soft smile widening on his face. 

“Here, try.” Armin takes a spoonful, holds his free hand beneath it, and brings the wooden spoon to Jean’s mouth after blowing the hot steam away. Keeping eye contact, Jean watches Armin as he puts a tasteful in his mouth. 

“Mhn, it’s good.” Jean licks the corner of his mouth, his eyes still on Armin who turns back to the food. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. You have a way with herbs.” Jean’s face softens when he sees Armin’s happiness. 

“By the way, I thought about the fireplace. We ought not to use it. The smoke will probably attract enemies.” Armin says in a low voice. He reaches above him to the cupboard, searching for deep plates. 

“I agree. Not the kind of smoke signal we should send out.” Jean rubs the back of his neck, looking on as Armin distributes the soup into the two bowls. Putting them aside, he then looks for silverware. Jean thinks about his next words carefully, then utters them. He might not get a chance like this again. “It sucks though, with the nights being as cold as they fucking are. We might freeze once the food is gone from our belly and we don’t feel the warmth from the bath anymore.” 

He watches Armin’s reaction like a hawk. Putting the two spoons on their plates and the plates on the table, Armin’s face falls as little as possible. His eyes glaze over in the thoughtful manner they have, his lashes low and towards the ground. Once he’s done thinking, he takes a chair, and motions Jean to sit as well in front of his own plate. They sit next to each other, a less romantic setting than he would have hoped for. 

“True. We cannot risk it, however.” Armin missed what Jean implies, who sits down, smirking. For now, he let’s a comfortable silence fall between them as they eat and gather nutrients for their bodies to stay strong. Once the meal is over, Jean gathers the plates and washes them lazily with the bit of water he had gathered for Armin to boil in the kitchen and use.

Sitting down again, Jean leans one elbow on the table, eyeing Armin for a second. Then his eyes drift to the bed behind him, long enough to make Armin do the same. 

“I guess we need to find other means to stay warm. If you don’t mind.” Jean knows his smirk is downright dirty. He’s played nice long enough. Might as well let Armin know his true intentions. They’re on a mission, but Jean always knew how to make even the most dangerous or dull things enjoyable for himself. 

Armin’s smile has something childish, as if he hadn’t lost the innocence he had when he was 16. As if nothing bad had ever befallen his life. Jean knew that wasn’t true. Still, Armin chuckles, a sound so angelic in Jean’s ears, he doesn’t know if it's the feeling in his heart or if Armin had been a heavenly being all along.

“You know, I’ve slept in one bed with Eren and Mikasa since I was a kid. I’m more than used to sharing a blanket than you might think I am.”

Jean doesn’t like the mention of Mikasa, his former crush, or even less so the knowledge of Jäger being brought to his attention. He has to remind himself that they were children, and that they probably stopped doing something like that when they were teens. Or so he hopes. Better not confirm it.

“Yeah but, I guess you haven’t recently shared a bed with Eren..?” A nervous feeling, much different than the one he had riding outside, now infiltrates his system. Some emotions have colours that reflect their attributes, and the one Jean knows he’s having right now is green; and it’s not the light that green stands for hope. 

Thankful to witness it, Jean he leans back against the chair once Armin shakes his head.

“No. Sadly, I haven’t really had the time to share anyone’s bed.” Armin looks at the back of the fireplace they won’t use, a wide-eyed sadness displayed on his face. He glances to the now empty table, then back to Jean. “I guess you’ve heard the rumours?” 

Jean grins, nodding. He places his head in his hand, much at ease to where this conversation is going. He’s glad that Armin, too, wants all the cards on the table. Jean isn’t one to brag about the stuff you don’t need to say otherwise, but he’s been itching to tell Armin something for a while now.

“I did. I even punched one asshole who talked shit about you. It was a month ago, I think. He got hospitalized for a week.” 

Armin smiles. “Defending my honour or something the like? You and Eren are a lot more alike than you would like to admit, Jean.” 

Thwarted once more by Jäger being brought into the chat, Jean lets it slide when he sees Armin leaning back on the chair, at ease. The way Armin says his name has nothing to do with it, he tries to tell himself that at least. Not moving more than necessary, Jean leans in a little. He had brought his chair closer already during dinner, and once more as he sat down, not having Armin notice any of the advances he’s making. 

“The thing is, I don’t mind if the rumours are true. And I don’t mind sharing a bed with you, either.” Jean acts all smooth, even though his heart races a tiny bit. He’s not so nervous anymore, only excited by the possible outcome. Armin turns his head to him. The light catches on a small, usually invisible scar right below lower lashes of the left eye, above the high cheekbone. Jean’s ear, Armin’s eye, and Eren’s tooth. They’re just like the monkeys from the saying. 

But the creature in front of him is more beautiful than any animal Jean has seen or read about in the books. His blue eyes are a tint darker than before, just like the so-called abyss of the ocean. Jean once spent an entire afternoon listening to Armin talk, a book in his lap, hands and mouth both excited as he told Jean all he knew from the pages in front of him, from the incredible amount of books he’s gone through. Maybe it had been that afternoon that Jean had fallen, but he knew he had a crush before, based on the maturing looks Armin acquired between his 18th and 19th birthday. The longer hair, sharper face, and taller frame all added to the allure that had become Jean’s ultimate downfall.

And he always likes a good revenge. 

He’s entranced by Armin’s silence and beauty, just watching him sit there and be gorgeous. Jean had wanted to ravish him on other occasions: when they took showers together in the public bath, when they shared a tent on another mission, or had to get water from the river. There have been countless moments in which Jean found himself thinking dirtier thoughts, when he was alone and could let his hand roam free in his pants, beneath the blankets, under an even darker cover from the night. Without thinking, Jean licked his lips.

Inhaling deeply, Armin pushes his shoulders up before relaxing them once more, and looks behind Jean.

“I think the bath is ready.” 

Jean is half grateful that Armin gets up to leave to the bathroom. He has to control the urge rising in his pants before he can join him. Of course, he could up to become hard in front of Armin and heat the tub up even more. However, Jean prides himself on having taste and style. He’s not like other brutes who find it necessary to flaunt their dicks in front of the person they’re lusting after. 

Calm again, Jean sighs and rises from the table, following Armin. 

Sadly, he was too slow. Armin is already in the tub, his clothes folded neatly on a stool nearby. He also has his back turned to the door, a sign both of trust and of the desire to give privacy. Jean undoes himself from the strap-gear and his clothes, then joins Armin in the tub.

A loud, happy sigh comes off his lips once he sinks into the hot water. Closing his eyes, Jean feels the need to not look at Armin too much, less he wants him to feel uncomfortable near him. That’s the opposite of what he would like to happen. He lets the sound of nothing soothe him, sinking lower into the tub. He stops when Armin makes a sound. Opening his eyes a slit, he watches the blond sitting up and inching towards him. 

A cold thrill of arousal runs down Jean’s backside and towards his loins when Armin’s wet hand touches the upper part of Jean’s left biceps. Blue eyes give a hard stare to the hypertrophic scar that rises in a red line there. The touch is quite noticeable, and Jean has a hard time sitting still. He wills himself into being the object for observation for as long as Armin wishes him to be.

“I haven’t seen this one.” The bluest of blue eyes, way too pretty for their own good, do not look away from Jean’s arm. He is even sadist enough to trace the still itchy line, which doesn’t quite reach around the arm. It’s more like a half moon embracing Jean’s biceps. 

“It’s quite recent. Last mission with Eren, Connie, and Sasha? I was in the way when Con tried to kill a titan. He pulled the blade quick enough to not slice my whole arm clean off, but wasn’t able to retract without hurting me. Sash’ was right behind us and took the kill. She also took care of the wound, best as she could.” The close scrutiny now takes effect, and he wonders if this is Armin getting even for the previous staring done by Jean. He rubs the back of his neck, and continues his story. “Sash’ said I have too much collagen there or something. Which might have happened since I’ve been wounded so often before. It’s the body overproducing shit I don’t need.” 

“Mhn, that’s true. It will take a few years for it to recede and become as even with your skin as if it were a normal scar.” At last Armin lets go of his arm, and his eyes rise to meet Jean’s. “You’ve become more reckless during the last missions.”

“Tch, that’s not true at all. And I’m nowhere near as bad as Eren. Now there’s a-” 

“-‘suicidal bastard who rushes into death without thinking about others.’ Even though you’re prone to repeat those words whenever you feel like it, your body is scarred, too.” 

Jean looks away, watching the water ripple in front of him. In a lower voice, he says, “We all have our scars. Carrying them neither in pride or vain. They’re only testimonies of us being too stupid, not quick enough, or trusting the wrong people.” He’s about to sink in memories he doesn’t wish to see, when all of a sudden, Armin leans against him.

Naked Armin. Wet Armin. Sharing a tub with him. _That_ Armin who doesn’t care that their arms collide or that his shoulder comes just below the scar he just examined. At the same time that Jean freezes, his body becomes hot all over. He could have been sitting in a cold water tub, and Armin would have still given him the same effect.

“Or, they’re a demonstration of our will to live. A proof of still being alive, against all odds.” 

Jean dares to tilt his head to where he can see Armin sit. The blond ends of his hair flowing across his shoulders and collarbone reach the water. He is as much at ease as he was at the dinning table, if not so even more given to the help of the warm bathtub. More so, Jean’s urge to kiss him becomes more apparent, as he leans down to let his lips brush the blond bangs covering the smart forehead. Making no sudden movements, Armin’s long lashes blink, before he tilts his head upwards. There’s the moment Jean had been waiting for for some time, and even though he found the perfect occasion to do what he always wanted, he cannot make himself close the last, nearly non-existent distance.

He’s caught, once more, in a sea of blue and black and light and life. His pulse quickens under his skin, his throat becomes unbearably thick, and he swallows.

Pulling back instead of attacking, he lets his eyes look at the ceiling.

“I suppose we should get out soon, before the water cools off and we get sick. It’s the last thing we need; being sick far away from home, unable to return.” Jean laughs it off, knowing quite well how it was to have a cold while on horseback and running away from a 6-meter-tall titan.

“Yeah,” Armin says, and his voice sounds even thicker and heavier. In Jean’s mind, it even has a lusty note. “Yeah we should. We wouldn’t want that to happen.” 

“Right.” Jean says, the first to move and leave the tub. “I’ll make coffee. Or tea.” He’s forgotten already what their supplies consisted of. As he rushes to dry off and get dressed, Jean’s mind only knows of the counter, the table, the chairs, the sofa, the bed, the walls. All sorts of places he’d like to take Armin, and _take_ until his legs and arms would give, or their breath would be caught in each other’s names, calling them like prayers on a dying man’s lips.

On leaving the bathroom, Jean trips over his own feet, then scrambles before Armin can get out and see him flailing like a fish out on the dry land. 

The problem in his pants is even bigger and more urgent than before he had gotten into the bath. Before Armin had given him certain looks and implications. He never reminded Jean of how fleeting their lives may be, he instead always inspired the good things they had. It made Jean want him all the more, to love every bit of him, for as long as it may last. 

Jean occupies himself by heating the boiled, clean water, then searches for mugs and anything else he might put in there. His mind runs a mile on imagery alone, and he’s quite unable to locate the tea leaves right in front of his foolish eyes. Grumbling, he sets to work, noticing only when Armin closes the bathroom door. He hears his name called, two, three times, but doesn’t give the other even a glance. Looking at Armin is dangerous right now, and Jean presses his hard-on against the counter at which he stands, fumbling with the proper amount of tea.

Hands smaller than his, with elegant fingers, help him, stabilize his hands making tea, and add another small spoonful to the filter. 

In a self-destructive move, Jean embraces him one-armed, and pulls Armin against his side. He puts the filter in an empty teapot, then pours the hot water over the leaves inside the filter. His free hand moves to Armin’s shoulder, and he enjoys the arms that loop around him, reaching the other side of his body. Jean feels how Armin presses his nose against the fabric of his shirt, then inhales the two scents of both the clean body and the worn fabric. On the other side of Jean’s torso, where Armin’s hands become fists, he feels the warmth spread from where the fingers curl into his side. Then, stronger than Jean has ever felt Armin to be, he’s pushing him away from the counter.

“Sit down.” Armin doesn’t look at his face, and instead gazes at Jean’s bare feet. He’s quite confused by the suddenness, and just stares at the blond head.

“Pardon?”

“Sit down, on the chair, please.” Armin says again, and Jean feels himself stumble backwards by the force of the authority in his voice. He plops down in an ungraceful manner, and doesn’t have time to think, to catch his breath, or even ask another question, when Armin charges at him. One second to the other, Jean’s lap is full of Armin’s feather-light heaviness, and the hands roam across Jean’s chest to his shoulders, pulling him in. 

Not wanting to give too much of the initiative to Armin, Jean’s brain catches up, and he holds Armin’s face, then lets his mouth pull at the bottom lip, opening it up as it gives out one of the most silent moans Jean has ever heard. It doesn’t take long for the first chaste touch to blow out in a full on, heady kiss, in which Jean has to give as much as he takes. Their tongues join in, sloppy in only the first seconds before their technique starts in. Jean’s eyes are closed as he enjoys the press of Armin’s entire being against him. He goes through the blond hair, pulls Armin to stay whenever he’d liked to take a breath or create some distance. Jean doesn’t want Armin to think too much about this, as overthinking might backfire and chase Armin away. He just needs Armin to understand how amazing they could be.

In time, Armin’s arms loop around Jean’s neck, and after the initial fast touches, they slow down to a gentle, more composed make out session, easing into each other’s lips and silent sounds as easily as if they’d done this a hundred times before. Armin smells even better after the bath, and his skin feels too soft for Jean to comprehend any of this. That he’s having Armin all over him, all to himself like this, in the best possible way. His brain stops functioning when he moves his mouth to whatever he thinks would please Armin.

He grins when he feels Armin’s open-mouthed kiss blowing out steam and small sounds of pleasure.

Dark blue eyes, dazed behind half-hooded lids and a guard of lashes, watch as if a lusty fantasy takes shape right in front of him. Jean grins wider, nibbling at the bottom lip bit for bit. Armin is putty in his hands, right down to his lap where something stiffens. To Jean’s eternal gratefulness, it’s not just him. He has to kiss Armin’s protest based on insecurity away more, as his lower part reacts strongly when Jean moves his hips. 

The next thing they do includes teeth and nails and pulling hair. It’s get rougher, hotter, breathier. Jean has to lean forward more and more to keep Armin with him. But when he pulls away completely and keeps his eyes closed, Jean holds on for a moment, sits back, and waits. Armin regards him, more clearly than before.

“I don’t think we should do this.”

Of course it bums Jean. His hands drop to Armin’s sides, frozen. He looks past them to the wooden floor, trying not to show his disappointment.

The sound of angels rings through the cabin. Jean blinks and looks up, seeing Armin holding his fist in front of his mouth, laughing. Leaning back into Jean’s welcoming, confused embrace, Armin makes himself heavy in his arms, nose brushing the neck before he speaks. “I meant, not on the chair. Not yet anyway. And the table looks uncomfortable, if I have to lie on it.”

Brain catching up a second too late, as the angelic laugh huffs a breath on Jean’s skin this time, Jean’s eyes light up immediately. He holds Armin firmly against him, eyes staring off into nowhere, as images and possibilities flood to inspire his next moves. Standing up, still holding a now surprised Armin, Jean turns to take another survey of the cabin. He’d estimated its cosiness before, but now it meant business. Now the red alarm was going off. 

In fast steps, Jean walks over to the sunken floor in the living room. He hates the idea of attracting titans, but his mind has one track, focusing on Armin alone, and the pleasure that would come. Against all safety issues, he puts logs into the fire, then lights it. When he turns around to attack Armin, he freezes. The way Armin leans against the couch, tartan blankets wrapped around his shoulder and sexily around his legs…

“At least you know how to start a fire, Jean.” Armin says, playing the dumbfounded. 

It takes Jean again a second before a shit-eating grin comes up his face and he closes the distance to the couch, making himself comfortable next to Armin. Without any subtle undertones, he puts his arm around Armin and pulls him in for another kiss. Armin busies himself with kissing back all languid and smooth; he spreads the blanket over Jean, too, letting both their legs hide beneath it. As if they needed another shield to let their hands roam free across each other as it is. 

Jeans stops for a second, once the fire warms his skin as much as Armin does. He wants to laugh about the situation, about his luck. Everything had played out nice and smooth for him. Instead of thinking luck had something to do with it, he thanks his good looks and charm. Gently, giving Armin time to stop him whenever, he undresses him beneath the plaid as they sink more and more into the coziness of the couch. 

“Hey, Armin.” He breathes on the cheerful lips unable to leave his for a moment. “Just so you know. I’m not- I mean. Damn, okay, I’ve been interested for a while now. Shit.” 

Their lashes flutter close together. Jean can feel Armin’s on his cheek, as he angles his head to kiss Jean. It’s an answer of sorts, but not yet the confirmation Jean seeks. Good looks and charm aside, he doesn’t want Armin for just a single night in an outpost as they have to warm each other through the night. Armin doesn’t leave him hanging on just a kiss though. A warm smile crosses the blond’s face, dark blue eyes looking at Jean’s chest before answering.

“Ah, I’ve sorta known. For a while.” Armin hides himself below Jean’s chin, hugging him and not allowing to be made to look up and face him. “Why did you think we two were assigned on this mission? I’ve noticed you watching me more times than not, and the sort of smile you’d get. I didn’t want to think too much about it, or get any disillusions.” Armin’s eyelashes flutter against Jean’s throat, which thickens after every sentence Armin’s breath ghosts over his skin.

“...Armin.”

“So I started what I hoped would be interpreted as ‘flirting’ back. And, well-”

“Here we are.” Jean ends the sentences in Armin’s head, hoping the ‘we’ carries that extra weight it needs. He looks through the window, past the woods; only able to see the darkness spreading across the trees. It’s late, and it becomes hard to see the outlines of things outside. His heart, to which Armin’s head is not too far off, relaxes. It’s when his senses become sharper, and old training flogs him. They never should have started a fire.

“Say, would you mind, uh, if we’d warm each other up? I mean, without the fire.”

Armin’s head moves, soft bangs replaced by even softer hair that slides across Jean’s open shirt. Neither wants to leave, to get up, or dim the fire. Jean leans his chin on Armin’s head for a moment, watching the embers burn.

“Promise me a romantic evening by the fire in your quarters, when we’ve returned?”

“Oh, definitely.” Jean smiles, and kisses Armin’s blond crown. There’s much Jean has in mind; plans best meant when they’re behind the safety of their walls. The latter is reluctant to let him leave, which makes him smile even more. The arms and blanket wraps fall off him when he moves to the fire, and closes the flue. He hates killing some of the romantic atmosphere, and hopes it doesn’t put a downer on the mood too much. They’ve built it up quite a lot already.

When he turns around, Armin is laying on his back. It’s way too sexy, how his shirt buttons are half down, how his hair fans out on the pillow. Half of him is hidden by the blanket and the shadows. From what Jean can see, and of which everything arouses him, he doesn’t need further invitation or confirmation to continue. It lies in Armin’s open mouth, the fingers playing with the blanket and even stroking his own chest. Jean swallows, accepting that this is it. Once he goes over to Armin, it’s settled.

He’ll lose himself in the boy he watched become a man. Unravel not only the clothes that protect his skin and hide the scars, but to open him up in every way possible. Inhaling confidence through his nose, Jean returns to the couch, pushing the blanket away from Armin, only to let his mouth ravish the skin that’s taunting him so much. 

“Ah, Jean.” Armin’s eyes flutter close, the last thing Jean needs to see. As hands go through his hair and undercut, he shuts his eyes as well, concentrating on the loose and wild kisses he puts to Armin’s chest, opening his shirt, creating more canvas to create something even more beautiful and perfect than the person already lying there. Armin opens his legs, letting Jean sink in and down on him. One of Armin’s hands leave the head and trail down Jean’s neck, under his shirt. Knowing they can’t reach far there, and too much into the administrations Jean gives him, Armin’s hand strokes over Jean’s back, across the shirt. Then pulls at it to get the hem, and pull at even more to let Jean undress himself. 

Shirts make way for skin, and hands happily make their way all over that. As far as Armin’s arms can reach, he touches and urges Jean on, both his body and voice losing inhibitions. All this has Jean burning up, so much pent up stress and need. He realizes that he takes his time for this, after the first dam was broken. There’s no need to hold back here though. Armin is more than willing to where this could lead, and Jean is pleased to take his hand and lead him to new heights.

“Mhn, yes Jean, please. Down there’s good.” Armin breathes out more than he speaks the words. His hand pushing Jean, pulling his hair, rearranging him in the way he learns his body likes best. Happy to comply, Jean does as wanted. His tongue licks over the tight stomach, a little off to the side of the belly-button. Licking all the way to the other side, he bites the soft skin there, making Armin buck up and moan his name. As Armin uses his legs to do that, he also shoves himself up the couch. He’s unaware of it, which makes Jean want to punish him. 

The next target of Jean’s lips are the rosy buds further up. He licks them once, encloses them with his lips, and sucks on them until they’re hard. Armin has no power to thrash or to stop them, and only can hold onto Jean’s shoulders.

“Jean, _please_ ,” Armin begs again, neither of them knowing for what exactly. Jean can only guess it’s more of everything. While he kisses Armin’s other nipple, his hand busy themselves opening the trousers. His fingers almost make it; his knuckles get a soft brush of pubic hair, the touch of it making Jean even harder. His own pants are so tight, as he tries to give pleasure first. He kisses down the stomach, his fingers trying to drop further below.

A rumble strikes the ground. Loud as thunder, the earth beneath them quakes. It’s rhythmic, and has Jean up in arms in seconds. Armin sits up, a beautiful mess if Jean has ever seen one, half naked and his long hair a wilder mane. He has to ignore it, has to ignore the tightness in his trousers _and_ his heart as he has to leave Armin’s side. He takes a few strides to his blades, holding it up in front of him when he walks to the window, gazing outside. The rumbling comes closer, louder, harder. 

Behind him, Armin moves. The candles go out, leaving them in darkness. Jean moves back to the middle of the room, but not near their lover’s nest. Behind him, Armin is dressed and armed as well. Outside, the horses stay silent. 

The ground stops shaking as the titan stops nearby. He’s on the right. Jean prays to every deity listening that this one is stupid, too blind, that his senses are off. 

Armin gives him a kiss on the neck, and says something Jean can’t catch. He turns around, but has to hold his tongue as to not make any sound. In horror, he watches Armin reaching for his bag, and leaving to the bathroom. Bristling, Jean curses inside his mouth, and wants to follow. The titan outside moves, the steps slowly, but deliberately, following the two humans as they go to another side of the outpost.

Jean wants to call Armin back, to tell him not to do anything stupid that may kill him; but speaking a word might be the death of the only person, the only life, Jean cared more for than his own. He’s at the door of the bathroom, ice in his veins when he feels the draft from the other door being open, too. Peeking through the slit, he sees Armin, throwing something outside of the door.

Something Jean dislikes, and something he cannot put anywhere else than Jäger’s influence on Armin, makes him grimace. The fact that Armin is with one foot outside, one foot on the wrong side, as if he might as well be ramming his foot against Death’s door and waiting for an swift answer. And Jean lets him. That he has to trust that Armin won’t do anything stupid enough to kill himself. 

He has that same trust for Jäger, too. It’s one of the reasons he joined the Survey corps; he followed all three of them: Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. 

The one who's right in front of him, not moving a muscle. Not even when the titan bellows. It’s a sound Jean has never heard, and it chills his bones. His body is tense, ready to run forward and shield Armin from whatever might happen next. Armin, who put his blade behind him, and has nothing to defend himself with, and Jean, whose only defense is one stupid blade.

The earth shakes, and shakes again, and when it shakes a third time, Jean feels that its further off. The titan is leaving. Armin closes the door, his back against it, sliding down, breathing out. Once they’re safe, Jean all but throws his blade aside, ready to give Armin the scolding of his life.

Yet, Jean is unarmed in other ways. Armin turns to him, a weak smile on his face.

“Give me my writing utensils. I have to specify the effect of Hange’s new invention. It works!” Armin says, turning around and sitting back against the door.

“Why do I have to get it?” Is all Jean can answer, knowing he must be making the most dumbest expression right now.

“I don’t think my legs work quite yet.” Armin says, his smile all wobbly. Jean cannot help but having sort of victorious feeling come over him. He grins, cocking his eyebrow.

“Oh, I am going to give you something to make you unable to use your legs.” 

Jean refuses to ‘move the mountain to the prophet’ as the German proverb goes. For a second time that evening, and what might as well become his new favourite occupation, he lifts Armin, feet and all, from the floor. Bringing the prophet to the mountain, or rather, a lunatic in the making to his writing stuffs, he sits Armin down on the table and gives him what he needs.

He somehow didn’t want to bring him back to the nest they’ve created yet. It would taint the whole business, mixing work and pleasure. Jean clucks his tongue when Armin writes, wanting him to just get the specifics down and leave the details for later. There are a few details Jean still wants to create on Armin’s body. 

“Hmm, it’s getting cold.”

“Well yeah, someone opened the door on a damn cold night while a titan roamed around. I’m cold too.” Jean says. He goes around while Armin is writing, lighting up most of the candles. Returning to Armin’s side, Jean’s expressions softens into a dirty, expectant smirk. “You know, for giving me a fright, you ought to do something to make it up to me.”

If Jean had any intention to sound smooth and sexy, it vanishes once he’s said the words. Anything at all goes right downhill the way Armin faces Jean, earnestly, his lashes way too gorgeous and unmoving to be allowed.

“Oh, sure. I’d wanted to make you lie down anyway, so.” Armin spreads his legs, his eyes motioning Jean to come and stand between them. When Jean does, his brain doesn’t function quite yet. His mouth is open, lips dry, his throat thick. For a third time, Armin loops his arms and legs around Jean, whose hands grip round the ass and lift him up. When Jean walks, he’s dazed, his mind still processing what Armin just told him. There’s no hope for proper speech for Jean, who knows he’d probably sputter. 

They come to the couch, where Armin only leans back, one hand still on Jean’s shoulder, as the other picks up the spreads.

“I think we should relocate to the bed. Falling asleep on the couch won’t do our backs any good, and we can warm the bed for the night.” Armin says, engulfing them in the blankets still warm from their body heat. Jean nods, then an easy grin widens on his face. Reassured that everything is going according to plan, Jean’s legs are more sure of walking to the bed, which feels cool indeed as he and Armin get comfortable below it, the spread around them loosening, the warm protective layer slipping off them. 

They hadn’t dressed completely; the buttons of Armin’s shirt are half down, and Jean had been in the middle of getting his trousers open, the button still off. Already on it, Armin busies himself unzipping Jean’s pants, and copping a first feel. Jean’s arms on each side of Armin’s body, and he gazes at the lids appearing half closed as Armin looks down. 

“Lie down, Jean.”

“Uh, sure.” Jean’s voice is thick, and he let’s himself fall on the cool mattress. There’s nothing cold in Armin’s movements, but they’re calculated; he straddles Jean’s thighs, disappearing beneath the blankets as he pushes Jean’s shirt up and his pants, including underwear, down and below. Armin’s a tease; he takes his time kissing other parts above Jean’s center, not even using the tip of his tongue yet. His kisses trace a path, the blond hair tickling Jean’s body the further he ventures below, and the hands hold tight to the hips, pressing them flat. Strong hands resist all movement Jean would like to propose, to urge Armin to some haste. 

Instead, the open mouthed kisses fan out to either side of the hip bones, going deeper to the inside of the defined pelvis arch. Although the sensation different from the usual tickling Jean would feel, his lower body trembles nonetheless. 

He stops all movement when Armin’s lips finally touch the base of his cock, and dies inside when the tongue slides a lewd line over the hard member. Jean breathes out in long, deep sighs, his eyes rolling back a little as the pleasure builds. All tension from before leaves his body. He keeps his hands off Armin for now, and grabs the pillow his head rests on instead. He needs support when Armin’s mouth goes around the tip of his penis, burying it in a wet heat better than anything Jean’s hand and fantasies could offer. 

One of Armin’s hands leaves Jean’s hip to hold the cock better and upright, enabling Armin to lower his mouth over the half of the length, his tongue sliding under it, sucking Jean inside deeper still. 

“Oh God, Armin.” Jean’s chest arches up a little, his hand going through his hair. He puffs out a laugh, enjoying himself fully when Armin speeds up, his head moving the thick blankets. Jean has to see it; he lifts the blanket and spread up, watching himself disappear into, and reappear from Armin’s mouth. He smiles to himself, until Armin looks up. If anything, his eyes look a deep black in the darkness, filled with lust and want. 

Everything from Jean’s collarbone to the upper side of his thighs crumbles in shock, as if thunder rides through him and gathers in his center. He gulps, exhaling through his nose, knowing what this trouble means. Taking Armin’s wrist, his thumb rubs over the pulse, feeling for it; it’s just as speedy as Jean’s own heartbeat. 

There is no need in the world to end their first night together too early. Jean pulls, hoping his objective is clear to Armin too. The latter shows reluctance to leave from his place just yet, and closes his eyes instead, bobbing his head down and up a few more times. Jean’s urgency has him sitting up, pushing the blankets down to Armin’s curved back, and brushing the long hair before he pulls it.

“Stop. I-it’s- I’m.” He can’t talk, not when what Armin does to him makes him moan out loud and have his arms encompass his lover. Jean’s upper body arches over Armin, holding him close, pushing his head, needing him to go on without stopping. 

He feels Armin’s smirk, and all of a sudden, his cock is out in the open once more, slick with spit and precum. In one swift movement, Armin stretches up, hands on Jean’s shoulders. He gives him a wet kiss, laughing in that angelic way that disrupts what Jean’s sees right in front of him. More so, Jean is surprised to feel Armin’s naked legs against his half-dressed ones. The little sprite has undone them while he was beneath the covers. The whole idea of it does it for Jean, whose mind short-circuits. The red hot need takes over, and he takes the slight frame of Armin, making him sit up to kiss properly. 

Armin ducks his head, nibbling at Jean’s bottom lip, breathless. “D’you have something..?”

“Y-yeah.” Jean’s voice leaves him. He reaches for the nightstand, opening the drawer. On the first round to check the outpost for supplies, he had left two glass tubes of a special oil in both the drawers, just for this moment. Meanwhile, Armin’s hands take off Jean’s trousers and underwear completely, leaving them hidden somewhere behind him on the bed. One in his hand, he takes the cap off, and looks at Armin. Without a word needing to be said, Armin straddles Jean’s lap, whose knees go up to support Armin with his legs. One arm around the lower back, Jean let’s the oily substance go over two of his fingers. 

Armin is all around him, embracing him tightly when Jean fingers him. He hides his face over Jean’s shoulder, shaking a little. Jean kisses his ears, whispering anything that comes to mind. How beautiful Armin is, how much Jean had wanted this, how long he’s waited for him. He stretches Armin once his entrance is used to the penetration, then takes the bottle again. He empties it over Armin’s asshole, and let’s it fall directly beneath to his cock. 

“Wait.” Armin asks, then removes the last pieces of clothing. Jean’s eyes close and he lifts his arms to help Armin undo the shirt off him, then opens the last buttons on Armin’s shirt and pushes it off his shoulders. 

“Tell me if it’s too much, ‘kay? Armin?” Jean licks the earlobe, then waits for Armin to nod. His fingers are half slick with oil, but his hands are steady when they spread the rear for his cock to enter. He slides in with ease, and the hotness surrounding his cock could have been enough to bring him over the edge. Holding on to Armin, Jean bites his lip hard, needing to persevere. Willing himself to wait and not move too fast for Armin’s sake, he waits. For a few seconds, Armin hovers, Jean’s penis half inside of him. Slowly, he moves downward, his breath hitching, catching a wet warmth across Jean’s face. 

Fine, perfect nails dig into Jean’s skin, clawing over his back towards his shoulders. Licking his lips, Jean holds Armin as he sits down completely, then helps him move. The pace is slow, both testing how much the other can take. Jean’s toes curl when Armin moves on his own, faster, gathering speed as he rides Jean. 

Jean’s eyelashes flutter from the overwhelming pleasure, which takes over every inch of him. Once Armin’s initial pain is over, he puts his forehead to Jean, who smiles at him. One of his lesser oiled hands caresses Armin’s back, touching along the spine, until his palm cups the back of Armin’s head, holding him still. They kiss, and once Jean’s tongue slides inside of Armin’s mouth, the latter becomes fiercer in his movements. He rides Jean harder still, slamming himself down, his rear making the most amazing sounds when it slaps against Jean’s thighs. 

It makes Jean buckle under the heat once more, his head dropping down to Armin’s shoulder. It has a single, small scar, going towards the back. It’s so tiny, and yet Jean can remember the day, the exact hour of the afternoon, the reason of its being there. He doesn’t want to think about it, and as he let’s himself be lost in the warmth of Armin’s body, he bites down right beside the wretched small, pink line. His tongue licks the captured skin, then his lips suck on it, before he bites on it harder still. Armin goes wild on top of him, and Jean feels his penis slide over his stomach. He doesn’t want to either let go of the blond hair or the round ass, but he has to.

A gentleman can’t just think of his own satisfaction, after all. He let’s go of Armin’s ass, as much as its pains him. He guides it between their bodies, where space isn’t a concept anymore. Somehow he gets to Armin’s member, and starts to stroke him there. The friction has Armin’s head fall back, his eyes closed and mouth open, slackening wider. 

“Fuck, Jean,” Armin groans out in his bliss, unable to open his eyes or return his head close to Jean. The latter doesn’t push him, fingers entangled with the blond hair just there for some sort of support, hoping Armin won’t sink too far away. He doesn’t lessen the pace in which he rams himself on top of Jean. At the same time, Jean has more room to perfect his handjob and speed that one up significantly, watching Armin become disheveled by it. The alluring chaos of it has Jean smile, wanting to keep going.

“Armin, c’mere.” It takes some moments until Armin registers being spoken too. He returns, losing pace for a bit, and sits right down to listen to Jean. His lips are wet, open, breathing hard, then kissing Jean. The long fingers go through Jean’s hair, nails scratching. Slowly, Jeah moves his hips, both their eyes closed. The slower pace suits him well to relax for a moment. His voice thick with lust, he whispers his proposal of changing positions. Although Armin nods, he is in no way able to move himself. 

As gently as he can, Jean turns them around, and lowers Armin to lie down on his back. He’s breathless, warm, sweaty, and his scent drives Jean crazy. He therefore pushes the knees wider, his own right below Armin’s thighs. Jean’s feet keep him steady when he moves himself in and out of Armin, whose chest arcs, hovering for a few seconds before he falls back, Jean’s name on his lips. Taking both hips under his palm, Jean watches as he wrecks Armin’s body into a blissful state, unable to speak or move on his own anymore. All he can do is writhe into different directions, messing up the cover of the mattress, the pillows, and the blankets behind Jean. 

Jean gathers himself, leaning down until he is on all fours, kissing Armin’s lips, their mouths still open and not quite locking as their movements become more turbulent. Not forgetting his duty, Jean holds Armin’s throbbing cock once more, pleasures it until his fingers are coated in precum. He’s close too, and cannot think straight anymore. 

“Armin, _damn_ , you’re so stunning...” He breathes compliments, moans, confessions, and all sorts of utter nonsense on Armin’s mouth, his cheeks and his throat. Jean’s love for him is overbearing, and when he’s closest to the end, his forehead drops on Armin’s chest. He has to hold the hips, as he drives himself in deep and hard with every thrust. It only takes seconds of this, Armin’s arms wrapped around his head and shoulders, nails begging him not to stop when the mouth is ridden of proper speech.

Coming inside, Jean groans out, his teeth grazing Armin’s chest, ghosting hot air over the even warmer skin. Limbs shaky, Jean wills them into obedience, opening his eyes to check Armin’s state. He’s pleased to see his come leaking from his half-hard member, most of his semen spread across both their stomachs, and dripping off Jean’s chest too.

Sitting up, Jean smiles at his handiwork; Armin cannot do anything but lie there looking up, one hand going through his pony, pushing the hair back and sighing. Removing himself from Armin’s hot ass, Jean pulls the covers over himself, then himself all over Armin once more. Welcomed into weak arms, Jean rolls them over, letting Armin lie comfortably next to him.

“That was the fucking greatest. I hate myself for not doing this earlier.”

Armin’s laugh across his chest is weak. 

“Mhn. I can’t think anymore. That was too good…” He sounds sleepy, and when Jean looks down, he notices how Armin’s breathing is already slowing down. 

Jean actually wants to clean them up, but lying here is way too comfortable. His limbs are weak too, and he doesn’t mind all the sweat and heat below the covers. Outside of this nest it’s too cold anyway. Hoping that the burning candles won’t set the whole outpost on fire, he closes his eyes, his lips on Armin for the last time tonight.

“Thanks. That was amazing.” Jean grins, as he enjoys Armin’s warmth, the arm around his middle, and the last, deep sigh ghosting over his dirtied chest. Once his eyes shut, it doesn’t take long to fall asleep.

*~*~*

When he wakes up the next morning, there’s a few things Jean notices before opening his eyes. The smell in the cabin lets him know that an amazing breakfast is waiting. His body feels heavy from the warmth he’s still in, but also clean and refreshed. A hand runs down his stomach in a lazy stroke, and he finds himself in a cleaner state than when he fell asleep. His eyes open slowly, getting accustomed to the morning light entering through the windows. 

There’s no Armin next to him. This saddens him a little, but when he turns to his left, he finds him standing in the kitchen, pouring coffee. Slightly in a better mood, Jean gets up, finds his clothes folded on the ground, and puts his trousers on, leaving the underwear and shirt for now. After a quick trip to the bathroom to brush his teeth, he enters the kitchen, prey in sight.

Armin himself is fully dressed, and when Jean hugs him from behind, he has every intention of changing this state. 

“Morning. Sleep well?” Armin asks, not lifting his head up for a morning kiss. Jean places one on the back of the blond head again, right above where the front bangs are tightened in a mini ponytail. 

“Mhnnn, yes. I did.” Jean answers curtly, his hands undoing Armin’s shirt from his pants. The latter laughs, and his half-hearted swats at Jean’s hands are nothing to be taken seriously. He doesn’t move to the frying pan, and simply extends his arm to flip the pancakes he’s making. Meanwhile, Jean’s teeth busy themselves at Armin’s ear, and he lifts off the shirt to peek to the shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks for that, Jean. I’m going to have an amazing time explaining that dark red bruise to Eren.”

Jean grins, the exultant sound loud. “Good.” He wants to kiss the other side, leave another mark on Armin’s neck. However, he’s pushed away, Armin’s ass against his front, when Armin has to look after the pancake currently having the best colour possible. 

“What?” Jean huffs a laugh. “You’re going to tell him anyway.”

“Eren knows I’ve liked you. He even hinted at things to happen before I left. I think you’ll find the exact same oils you had yesterday in my backpack, too.”

“Hmm, he approves?” Jean cannot quite believe it. He wanted to tease Eren with this. Armin takes out the current pancake and dips the next batter into the pan. Once he’s swung the batter around the pan, Armin leans back against the counter, looking at Jean.

“He said something about my happiness being more important. Eren wasn’t thrilled when I first told him about my crush on you, but he simply got over it. And anyway-” Armin’s hands brush over Jean’s hips, who laughs at the memory of the same touch from yesterday night. He comes closer as wanted, and enjoys Armin’s warm palms stroking his bare back. “There’s no need in telling him the details, anyway.”

“Details, huh? I am ready for more details before breakfast.” Jean grins, dipping his head down to kiss Armin’s lips. The freshness of his own breath mingles with Armin’s, whose arms loop around his neck during lip-lock for a few moments. Then his hands cross over the shoulders, over the chest, to pinch Jean’s nipples. Jean backs off in slight shock from the twisting pain, then gives Armin an arduous look, ready for vengeance. 

“Sit your ass down on the chair, Jean. The only ‘details’ you’ll be getting include revenge marking.” Armin doesn’t smile, and one hand pushes a still grinning, overjoyed in anticipation. He falls back into a chair, legs wide to support Armin as he sits down.

Behind him, the sizzle in the pan is nothing compared to the hot breath on Jean’s throat, who laughs as teeth pin prick his skin for a retaliating hickey. He’ll love showing that one off when they’re back.

**Author's Note:**

> FLENSER! I hope this is what you wanted ;A; I tried to keep to your preferences as much as possible. Tbh I laughed my ass off at your quirks because... yeah, same man xD''' no Jeanmarco anywhere! (Like, why would I even. omfg no). It's my first time writing these two (the whole reason I signed up for the Jearmin Secret Santa!) and I had tons of fun with these two, and writing this fic for you! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it and wish you a Merry Christmas!
> 
> Also: Please imagine Jean coming back with Armin and the first night he's drinking a beer with his buddies and then goes 'cockblocked by a titan of all things'. I didn't want to add it to the tags because it would be a spoiler but omfg. It is a thing that happened.
> 
> Anyway~ I hope I didn't do too badly ;; I had so much fun writing this and it went down smoothly I think... but its also the first time writing these two so idk what others might think 'A'


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